CHAPTER VIII.

Stella put hers into it, but reluctantly, and tried to spring, but her

dress caught and she slipped forward.

She would have fallen but that he was on the alert to save her. Quite

simply and naturally he put his arms round her and lifted her down.

Only for a moment he held her in his embrace, her panting form close to

his, her face almost resting on his shoulders, but that moment roused

the blood in his fiery heart, and her face went pale.

"Are you hurt?" he murmured.

"No, no!" she said, and she slipped out of his arms and stood a little

away from him, the color coming and going in her face; it was the first

time that any man's arms, save her father's, had ever encircled her.

"Are you quite sure?" he repeated.

"Quite," she said, then she laughed. "What would have happened if I had

slipped?"

"You would have sprained your ankle," he said.

"Sprained my ankle, really?" she repeated, with open eyes.

"Yes, and I should have had to carry you down to the boat," he said,

slowly.

She looked away from him.

"I am glad I did not slip."

"And I," he said, "am--glad also."

She stooped and picked up the primroses and ran down the slope, her

cheeks aflame, a feeling that was something like shame, and yet too

full of a strange, indefinable joy to be sullen shame, took possession

of her.

With light feet, her hat swinging in her hand, she threaded her way

between the trees and sprang on to the grassy road beside the river

bank.

He did not follow so quickly, but stood for a moment looking at her,

his face pale, his eyes full of a strange, wistful restlessness.

Then Stella heard his step, firm and masterful, behind her. A sudden

impulse tempted her sorely to jump into the boat and push off--she

could pull a pair of sculls--and her hand was on the edge of the boat,

when she heard the sound of bells, and paused with astonishment.

Looking up she saw a tiny phæton drawn by a pair of cream-white ponies

coming along the road; it was the bells on their harness that she had

heard.

They came along at a fair pace, and Stella saw that the phæton was

being driven by a coachman in dark-brown livery, but the next moment

all her attention was absorbed by the young girl who sat beside him.

She was so fair, so lovely, so ethereal looking, that Stella was

spellbound.

A book was in her hand--ungloved and small and white as a child's--but

she was not reading. She held it so loosely that as the phæton came

along the top of the bank which hid Stella, the book dropped from the

lax grasp of the white fingers.

The girl uttered an exclamation, and Stella, obeying one of her sudden

impulses, sprang lightly up the bank, and picking up the book, held it

toward her.

Her appearance was so sudden that Lady Lilian was startled and for a

moment the pale face was dyed with a faint color; even after the moment

had passed she sat speechless, and the surprise in her eyes gave place

to a frank, generous admiration.

"Oh, thank you--thank you!" she said. "How kind of you. It was so

stupid of me to drop it. But where did you come from--the clouds?" And

there was a delicious hint of flattery in the look that accompanied the

words.

"Quite the reverse," said Stella, with her open smile. "I was standing

below there, by the boat."

And she pointed.

"Oh?" said Lady Lilian. "I did not see you."

"You were looking the other way," said Stella, drawing back to allow

the carriage to proceed; but Lady Lilian seemed reluctant to go, and

made no sign to the coachman, who sat holding the reins like an image

of stone, apparently deaf and dumb.

For a few strokes of Time's scythe the two girls looked at each

other--the one with the pale face and the blue eyes regarding the

fresh, healthful beauty of the other with sad, wistful gaze. Then Lady

Lilian spoke.

"What beautiful primroses! You have been gathering them on the slopes?"

with a suggestion of a sigh.

"Yes," said Stella. "Will you take them?"

"Oh, no, no; I could not think of robbing you."

Stella smiled with her characteristic archness.

"It is I who have been the thief. I have been taking what did not

belong to me. You will take these?"

Lady Lilian was too well bred to refuse; besides, she thirsted for them.

"If you will give them to me, and will not mind picking some more," she

said.

Stella laid the bunch on the costly sables which wrapped the frail

figure.

Lady Lilian put them to her face with a caressing gesture. "You are,

like me, fond of flowers?" she said.

Stella nodded. "Yes."

Then there was a pause. Above them, unseen by Lilian, forgotten by

Stella, stood Lord Leycester.

He was watching and waiting with a strange smile. He could read the

meaning in his sister's eyes; she was longing to know more of the

beautiful girl who had sprang like a fairy to her side.

With a faint flush, Lady Lilian said:

"You--you are a stranger, are you not? I mean you do not live here?"

"Yes," said Stella; "I live"--and she smiled and pointed to the cottage

across the meadow--"there."

Lady Lilian started, and Lord Leycester seized the moment, and coming

down, quietly stood by Stella's side.

"Leycester!" exclaimed Lilian, with a start of surprise.

He smiled into her eyes, his strange, masterful, irresistible smile. It

was as if he had said, "Did I not tell you? Can you withstand her?"

But aloud he said:

"Let me make the introduction in due form. This is Miss Etheridge,

Lilian. Miss Etheridge, this is my sister. As the French philosopher

said, 'Know each other.'"

Lady Lilian held out her hand.

"I am very glad," she said.

Stella took the thin, white hand, and held it for a moment; then Lady

Lilian looked from one to the other.

Lord Leycester interpreted the glance at once.

"Miss Etheridge has intrusted herself on the watery deep with me," he

said. "We came across to gather flowers, leaving Mr. Etheridge to paint

there."

And he waved his hand across the river.

Lady Lilian looked.

"I see," she said--"I see. And he is painting. Is he not clever? How

proud you must be of him!"

Stella's eyes grew dark. It was the one word wanting to draw them

together. She said not a word.

"Your uncle and I are old friends," Lady Lilian continued. "Sometime

when--when I am stronger, I am coming to see him--when the weather

gets warmer--" Stella glanced at the frail form clad in sables, with

a moistened eye--"I am going to spend a long afternoon among the

pictures. He is always so kind and patient, and explains them all to

me. But, as I am not able to come to you, you will come and see me,

will you not?"

There was a moment's silence. Lord Leycester stood looking over the

river as if waiting for Stella's reply.

Stella looked up.

"I shall be very glad," she said, and Lord Leycester drew a breath,

almost of relief.

"You will, will you not?" said Lady Lilian, with a sweet smile.

"Yes, I will come," said Stella, almost solemnly.

"You will find me poor company," said the daughter of the great earl,

with meek humility. "I see so little of the world that I grow dull and

ignorant; but I shall be so glad to see you," and she held out her hand.

Stella took it in her warm, soft fingers.

"I will come," she said.

Lady Lilian looked at the coachman, who, though his eyes were fixed in

quite another direction, seemed to see the glance, for he touched the

horses with the whip.

"Good-bye," she said, "good-bye."

Then, as the phæton moved on, she called out, in her low, musical

voice, that was a low echo of her brother's:

"Oh, Leycester, Lenore has come!"

Leycester raised his hat.

"Very well," he said. "Good-bye."

Stella stood a moment looking after her. Strangely enough the last

words rang in her ears with a senseless kind of insistence and

emphasis. "Lenore has come!" She found herself repeating them mentally.

Recalling herself she turned swiftly to Lord Leycester.

"How beautiful she is!" she said, almost in a whisper.

He looked at her with gratitude in his eloquent eyes.

"Yes."

"So beautiful and so kind!" Stella murmured, and the tears sprang to

her eyes. "I can see her face now. I can hear her voice. I do not

wonder that you love her as you do."

"How do you know that I love her?" he said. "Brothers, generally----"

Stella stopped him with a gesture.

"No man with a heart warmer than a stone could help loving her."

"And so you agree that my heart is warmer than a stone. Thank you for

that, at least," he said, with a smile that was not at all unselfish.

Stella looked at him.

"Let us go now," she said. "See, uncle is getting his things together."

"Not without the primroses," he said; "Lilian will break her heart if

you go without any. Let me get some," and he went up the slope.

Stella stood in thought. The sudden meeting with the fairy-like

creatures, had filled her with strange thoughts. She understood now

that rank and money are not all that is wanted for earthly happiness.

So lost in thought was she that she did not hear the sound of a horse

coming along the mossy road, though the animal was coming at a great

pace.

Lord Leycester's ears were freer or quicker however, for he caught the

sound and turned round.

Turned round in time to see a huge bay horse ridden by a tall, thin,

dark young man, almost upon the slim form, standing with its back to it.

With something like an oath on his lips, he dropped the flowers and

with one spring stood between her and the horse, and seizing the bridle

with both hands threw the beast, with sheer force, on to its haunches.

The rider had been staring at the river, and was taken by surprise so

complete, that, as the horse rose on its legs, he was thrown from the

saddle.

Stella, alarmed by the noise, turned and swerved out of the path.

And so they were grouped. Lord Leycester, pale with furious passion,

still holding the reins and forcing the horse in an iron grip, and the

erstwhile rider lying huddled up on the mossy road.

He lay still, only for a moment, however; the next he was on his feet

and advancing toward Lord Leycester. It was Jasper Adelstone.

His face was deadly pale, making, by contrast, his small eyes black as

coals.

"What do you mean?" he exclaimed, furiously, and half-unconsciously he

raised his whip.

It was an unlucky gesture, for it was all that was needed to rouse the

devil in Lord Leycester's breast.

With one little irresistible gesture he seized the whip arm and the

whip, and flinging the owner to the ground again with one movement,

broke the whip, and flung it on the top of him with the other.

It was all done in a second. With all the will in the world, Stella had

no time to interpose before the rash act was accomplished; but now she

sprang between them.

"Lord Leycester," she cried, pale and horror-stricken, as she gazed

into his face, white and working with passion; all its beauty gone,

and with the mask of a fury in its place. "Lord Leycester!"

At the sound of her voice--pleading, expostulating, rebuking--a shiver

ran through him, his hand fell to his side, and still holding the now

plunging and furious horse with a grip of steel, he stood humbly before

her.

Not so Jasper Adelstone. With a slow, sinuous movement he rose

and shook himself, and glared at him. Speechless from the sheer

breathlessness of furious hate he stood and looked at the tall,

velvet-clad figure.

Stella was the first to break the silence.

"Oh, my lord!" she said.

At the sound of her reproachful voice, Lord Leycester's face paled.

"Forgive me," he said, humbly. "I beg--I crave your forgiveness; but I

thought you were in danger, you were--you were!" Then, at the thought,

his fiery passion broke out again, and he turned to the silent,

white-faced Jasper. "What the devil do you mean by riding in that

fashion?"

Jasper Adelstone's lips moved, and at last speech came.

"You shall answer for this, Lord Leycester."

It was the worst word he could have said.

In an instant all Lord Leycester's repentances fled.

With a smothered oath on his lips, he advanced toward him.

"What! Is that all you have to say? Do you know, you miserable wretch,

that you nearly rode over this lady--yes, rode over her? Answer for it!

Confound you----" and he raised his arm.

But Stella, all her wits on the _qui vive_, was in time, and her

own arms were wound about his, on which the muscles stood thick and

prominent--like iron bands.

With a gesture he became calm again, and there was a mute prayer for

pardon in his eyes as he looked at her.

"Do not be afraid," he murmured, between his lips; "I will not hurt

him. No, no."

Then he pointed to the horse.

"Mount, sir, and get out of my sight. Stop!" and the fiery passion

broke out again. "No, by Heaven, you shall not, until you have begged

the lady's pardon."

"No, no!" said Stella.

"But I say 'Yes!'" said Lord Leycester, his eyes blazing. "Is every

tailor to ride through the Chase and knock down whom he will? Ask for

pardon, sir, or----"

Jasper stood looking from one to the other.

"No, no!" said Stella. "It was all an accident. Please, pray do not say

another word. Mr. Adelstone, I beg you will go without another word."

Jasper Adelstone hesitated for a moment.

"Miss Stella," he said, hoarsely.

Alas! it was oil on the smoldering fire.

"Miss Stella!" exclaimed Lord Leycester. "Who gave you the right to

address this lady by her Christian name, sir?"

Jasper bit his lip.

"Miss Etheridge, you cannot doubt that I am heartily sorry that this

unpleasant contretemps should have been caused by my carelessness. I

was riding carelessly----"

"Like an idiot!" broke in Lord Leycester.

"And did not see you. No harm would have resulted, however, if this

man--if Lord Leycester Wyndward had not, with brutal force, thrown me

from the saddle. I should have seen you in time, and, as I say, no harm

would have been done. All that has occurred is this man--Lord Leycester

Wyndward's--fault. Again I beg your pardon."

And he bent his head before her. But as he did so a malignant gleam

shot out of his eyes in the direction of the tall, stalwart figure and

white, passionate face.

"No, no, there is no occasion!" said Stella, trembling. "I do not want

you to beg my pardon. It was only an accident. You did not expect to

see anyone here--I--I--oh, I wish I had not come."

Lord Leycester started.

"Do not say that," he murmured.

Then aloud:

"Here is your horse, sir; mount him and go home, and thank your stars

the lady has escaped without a broken limb."

Jasper stood a moment looking at him, then, with another inclination of

the head, he slowly mounted the horse.

Lord Leycester, his passion gone, stood calm and motionless for a

moment, then raised his hat with an old-world gesture.

"Good-day to you, and remember to ride more carefully in future."

Jasper Adelstone looked down at him with a malignant smile on his thin

lips.

"Good-day, my lord. I shall remember. I am not one to forget. No, I am

not one to forget," and striking spurs into the horse, he rode off.